


And To Her I Must Follow

by SavageNutella46



Series: Maribat One-Shots [13]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Maribat - Fandom, Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: ANOTHER INSTALLMENT OF MY SOULMATE AU, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Don’t worry, F/F, Flowers!, MariBat, THERES MORE!, it took me awhile, suck on that suckers, warning: flower language!, yes I made it suckers, youll probably like this one, y’all I loved writing this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-21 19:34:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30026763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SavageNutella46/pseuds/SavageNutella46
Summary: It’s already exceptionally hard to upkeep a run-down flower shop in the grimy part of downtown Gotham, but to run it while keeping the advances—though, certainly not unwanted—of a green, superpowered, plant obsessed woman?Harder. But Marinette will accept the challenge. After all, is it really Gotham if you don’t have supervillains knocking down your door with a plant vine every other week?
Relationships: Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug & Dick Grayson, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug/Pamela Isley
Series: Maribat One-Shots [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1882840
Comments: 13
Kudos: 50





	And To Her I Must Follow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SquareBrain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SquareBrain/gifts).



> This isn’t illegal.
> 
> Marinette is over eighteen, guys! Pam might just be a year or two older than her.
> 
> Please, don’t call the cops on me.
> 
> SQUAREBRAIN MY LOVE IT FINALLY HAPPENED!

_White Lilies_ ; an ordinary flower on its own through lack of plentiful knowledge of the organism, though to truly understand its meaning is facile; simple, even a little boring.

Marinette loves white lilies, loves to dig her mark-tallied arms deep into the soil which they reside in and rejuvenate their roots after a lengthy, sweltering day. She especially loves the message they send, whether the receiver realizes it or not.

Pure love. The universal innocence of white complimenting the token simpleton of flowers. _To thine own self be true_ , and to white lilies, Marinette stays faithful throughout and in-between a rock and a hard place.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng is no meta, of course. But to take care of her own plants is no chore either. She does it for the fertile soil under her ground that places itself so scarce in Gotham's terra; she finds any place she can to make use of the gift her very own miraculous gave her and bestow it onto the needy and borderline undeserving.

That's her excuse, at least. Marinette wants _nothing_ to do with Poison Ivy and her own care for the uptick of plants within Gotham City. She pointedly avoids the green-tinted lady, and no matter how many times the woman seeks her out just to provoke her into a world-dominating scheme, and give her coy looks.

  
(“We’d do so much good together, you and I.” Poison Ivy skimmed a hand down her arm, just barely touching the expanse of skin covering the length of her body, and it rose goosebumps to Marinette’s flesh. She shook her head.

”How many times have I said this? Twelve hundred? _No_ , Ivy.” Marinette rolls her eyes and turns back to the pretty gardenias.)

Marinette has morals ( _and friends_ ). She does _not_ need to dominate the world to impress someone who cries out in pain every time one of her precious plants is plucked from some other place than the stipule.

_Yes_ , she has her own soulmate (not the green-tinted lady, that's for sure, even though she hasn’t a clue who’s on the other end of her marks). Someone who's forced the weight-bearing burden of dying, and relying on her for resuscitation one-too-many times. But, then again, Marinette has had her own fair share of deaths from an akuma-gone-wrong, and is relieved to see her soulmate has brought her back to life every time.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng has several dozens of tallies marking her arms, bitter revelations of the countless times her soulmate has died.

___________

_Blue Hyacinths_. They bloom under her glowing fingertips almost immediately, unnatural in its speed, but everything about magic is unnatural. Marinette had found the seeds under her dim balcony light, sitting on top of the prickly hay 'welcome' mat, unlabeled.

Naturally, Marinette always had a spare pot and fertile soil on hand. She did not become a florist for nothing, and as the flowers below in her shop bloom and thrive, she sits up above in the apartment, working the roots into a comfortable position and witnessing exponential growth, silently, slowly.

"They mean, 'your loveliness charms me'," Marinette flinched in surprise, though, to an extent; This woman had been doing this too long for it to be exactly mind blowing.

She turned her head, and cleared her throat awkwardly at the sheer proximity between herself and Poison Ivy, the red-haired woman leaning against her counter and smirking down at Marinette, almost smug. Her lack of distance buried itself in Marinette's senses, and she felt as if she was to forever suffer from vertigo in Ivy's presence.

Marinette extracted her hands from the soiled pot. "Ivy," She greeted. "Your charm _flatters_ me, though I'm not sure I appreciate the unexpected visit." Indeed, she did not need Ivy to witness the shameful heat to her cheeks, the incoherence that suddenly swarmed her brain like a hazy fog when Ivy got too close.

Marinette gripped the countertop, harshly. "Call me Pam, dear." Surprising, considering Ivy didn't allow just anyone to use her name, and what a pretty name, indeed. And, currently, being the woman emotionally and almost physically pinned to her own counter by a supervillain, Marinette can't exactly say this is a new development.

" _Pam_ ," Marinette started, shooting the woman who stood almost nose-to-nose to her a precarious look. "The flowers are gorgeous, but—" Pam cuts her off with a heavy sigh, leaning further on the—literally—soiled countertop with her vine-covered arms, covered so thoroughly that Marinette can only make out what looks to be her soulmate tallies.

"Would you just _take_ them? I want you to have them. A gift," Pam stared at her, entirely demanding and stripping, stripping of the walls of privacy she so carefully put up. "From _me_."

Marinette's mouth formed an 'o' shape; her cheeks flushed, a little darker than they had been, for Ivy's undivided attention put her through a new wringer of awareness, the sound of her long magenta fingernails _tap-tap-tapping_ away at the countertop, the subtle, shy blush on Ivy's own high cheekbones.

"Thank you, Ivy. I love them." Ivy smiled, so, so beautifully that she couldn't help but stare in awe of the way her lips pushed up into the rare position, something Ivy never gave but to whom she was closest to.

Marinette almost flinched when Pam laid a green hand on her cheek, untensed her shoulders when the hand softly caressed the smooth skin. Her blush bloomed tenfold, and the heated dizziness that had previously escaped her in the heat of the moment spurred back increasingly as Ivy loomed above her, closely leaning in so their faces stood an inch apart.

Marinette swallowed, harshly. Heat cloyed at the back of her flimsy shirt, almost clinging to her back in the midst of vasodilation, followed by the dilation of her very eyes, gazing upon such a beautiful woman who stood _so close_ ; it was suffocating, she hated the position but loved it all the same.

" _Pam_ ," She breathed, almost breathless.

" _Marinette_ ," Pam whispered back, her breath whispy against Marinette's lips, the cool heat of her hand on the back of Marinette's neck blessedly cool against the heated skin.

The sound of her name rolling off of the antihero's tongue felt hot and familiar, almost like muscle-memory.

And then her five-thirty alarm rang, the dirt-littered phone on the counter next to her chiming a soft, yet insistent tune.

Marinette huffed, and suddenly, the moment was broken, Ivy slumped back onto a neighboring chair and watched as Marinette scrambled to turn off her alarm.

"You've been up all night?" Ivy glared at her, soft green hands taking Marinette's face not-too-gently in her hands, and peering closely at the bags hanging off her under eyes.

"No—well, yes, but—" Marinette tried, but clamped her mouth shut when Ivy shot her another glower and a raised eyebrow.

The woman sighed.

And kissed her.

Marinette hadn’t a second to react, pull away, or even gasp before Ivy gripped her shoulders with green hands, pulling her far more closer than deemed socially acceptable, though under the circumstances, _well_.

The heat felt impossibly cloying in the moment, her head _pounded_ , heart beat a little too fast; Marinette felt as if she was sweating buckets as Ivy’s hands moved from her shoulders to her neck, the cold appendages a disparity to the her heated skin.

But even as her head pounded faster, harder, she couldn’t find anything she’d rather be doing in the moment, other than to kiss Pam back. It felt so right to be in Pam’s arms, almost like a key into the lock that’d been so pathetically empty before, filled by the ethereal woman who constantly made her nervously sweat and blush.

Pam pulled away, though too soon for her liking, Marinette leaned back and gasped for air, air that came to her in short, hot bursts. She opened her eyes to a blurry scene, Ivy hanging in front of her, hands absentmindedly roaming her shoulders and arms, a motion that made her heart go all-the-more haywire.

Marinette blinked, and blinked again, but her vision stubbornly refused to clear, the woman in front of her growing increasingly more blurry. “Pam,” She gasped, lungs fully devoid of air. “I-I can’t—“ Pam cooed, silencing her from continuing, and though the woman’s lips started to move, she couldn’t hear, only remnants of what was supposed to be a sentence.

her head tilted sideways, slowly.

“—rest.”

And eventually, the world went dark.

**Author's Note:**

> This was very hard to write in the middle of my seasonal depression, but then fake spring hit, and I’m suddenly rejuvenated?
> 
> I’m also very, very sorry to the people I haven’t been able to talk to. Y’all mean so much to me, but it was so hard to bring myself to focus on anything other than school.
> 
> Hey, it might be over! 
> 
> Happy one year of lockdown anniversary!


End file.
